Presentation on theme: "The Pre-Raphaelite Image of Woman John Dixon Hunt, The PreRaphaelite Imagination 1848-1900, 1968."— Presentation transcript:
The Pre-Raphaelite Image of Woman John Dixon Hunt, The PreRaphaelite Imagination 1848-1900, 1968
D.G.Rossetti, Hand and Soul, 1850 A woman was present in his room, clad to the hands and feet with a green and grey raiment, fashioned to that time. It seemed that the first thoughts he had ever known were given him as at first from her eyes, and he knew her hair to be the golden veil through which he beheld his dreams. Though her hands were j oined, her face was not lifted, but set forward ; and though the gaze was austere, yet her mouth was supreme in gentleness. And as he looked, Chiaro's spirit appeared abashed of its own intimate pre- sence, and his lips shook with the thrill of tears ; … She did not move closer towards him, but he felt her to be as much with him as his breath…..
As the woman stood, her speech was with Chiaro : not, as it were, from her mouth or in his ears; but distinctly between them. ' I am an image, Chiaro, of thine own soul within thee. See me, and know me as I am. Thou sayest that fame has failed thee, and faith failed thee ; but because at least thou hast not laid thy life unto riches, there- 25 fore, though thus late, I am suffered to come into thy knowledge. Fame sufficed not, for that thou didst seek fame : seek thine own conscience (notthymind'sconscience,but thine heart's), and all shall approve and suffice…. And Chiaro held silence, and wept into her hair which covered his face; and the salt tears that he shed ran through her hair upon his lips ; and he tasted the bitterness of shame. Then the fair woman, that was his soul, spoke again to him, saying:
In all that thou doest, work from thine own heart, simply;….. And, speaking again, she said : ' Chiaro, servant of God, take now thine Art unto thee, and paint me thus, as I am, to know me : weak, as I am, and in the weeds of this time; only with eyes which seek out labour, and with a faith, not learned, yet jealous of prayer. Do this; so shall thy soul stand before thee al- ways, and perplex thee no more.' And Chiaro did as she bade him. While he worked, his face grew solemn with knowledge; and be- fore the shadows had turned, his work was done.
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Pygmalion and the Image I The Heart Desires, 1875-78 Oil on canvas,39 x 30 inches
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Pygmalion and the Image II The Hand Refrains, 1875-78
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Pygmalion and the Image III The Godhead Fires
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Pygmalion and the Image IV, The Soul Attains
La stessa modella puo subire infinite metamorfosi e divenire tante donne diverse: Elizabeth Sidda, Beata Beatrix, Rossetti
Tre categorie di bellezza femminile preraffaellita: La fanciulla leggiadra, timida e modesta, innocente: Christina Rossetti, Julia Jackson, Miss Anne Ryan, Ellen Frazer, Elizabeth Siddal. La bellezza bionda, procace e sensuale, dea del sesso: Fanny Cornforth, Annie Miller, Ruth Herbert, Alexa Wilding. La sirena fosca, enigmatica, perturbante, femme fatale: Maria Zambaco, Jane Morris.
Jan Marsh, Pre-Raphaelite Women, Images of Femininity, 1987 La vergine fanciulla Sposa devota e esemplare Mitica ammaliatrice, femme fatale
La verginità come vocazione femminile. Condizione beata o malinconica rinuncia?
D. G. Rossetti, The Girlhood of Mary Virgin, (1848-49)
Sir John Everett Millais. The Vale of Rest, 1858
Thomas GrayThomas Gray (1716-71),"ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD" The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,